


Flowers for Eternity

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Magic Stiles, Married Peter and Stiles, Murder Husbands, Prompt is witches, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Stiles gets a spell book from a witch. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. Peter needs to help clean up the mess.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter can barely keep his wolf in check as he approaches the apartment door. He can smell Stiles’ anxiety from down the hallway along with a very disturbing smell like they’re in a mortuary.

“Stiles?” He calls entering the house, fangs dropped and claws out, reading to defend Stiles from…

A mountain of flowers where their sofa used to be. Which is facing the mountain of flowers where their coffee table used to be.

Stiles is standing in between the two mountains of flowers, and it’s probably the first time he’s seen the boy look truly terrified. Well, the first time in a long time, since there’s an agreement they don’t discuss high school.

His boy turns his head, voice a bit shaky when he says, “Hey, Peter, glad you’re home. Got a little problem here.”

“I can see that.” Peter circles them, carefully stepping around the flowers and his husband. “You know, if you didn’t like the coffee table, you just should have said so.”

“Well, I know you truly believe you have better tastes than I do, so I thought I’d try to sneak something in.”

Peter looks at the book, sitting in the middle of what would be the coffee table. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that? Safe to touch it?”

“Yeah, touch that, not me. And yeah, that’s, umm…”

“New?” he asks, looking at the book. He translates the cover page, written in French. “Advanced Spell Work, basically. Very old by the looks of it – and the smell – new to you, I believe?”

“Yeah, yeah, new to me, got it today. You know that bookstore off Highway 36 in Red Bluff? The one we were talking about going to? Well, I got kinda bored and decided to check it out, you know?”

Peter cocks and eyebrow and opens a window before settling into his chair. “Yes, we were both going to go because I’d been told the owner is a witch. A powerful one. That one?”

“Funny thing about that, Peter, yeah, she’s totally a witch.” Stiles reaches up and scratches his nose, making Peter sit up in his chair, panic on his face. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. I mean, I accidentally touched myself – my hair – when I realized what happened and didn’t turn into flowers. Everything else does, at least as far as I know.”

“Just you, or other living things?”

“I haven’t tested other things.” He shrugs and continues, “You’re the first living thing in the house, I think, and I’m thinking I don’t want to test it on you. Honey bunch.”

“Thanks. Couldn’t find a spider or something?” Peter looks around the room as though one might appear.

Stiles snorts and for the first time since Peter’s been home, his scent truly relaxes. “You’re a big bad werewolf and you’re afraid of spiders. Cracks me up.”

“I’m not _afraid_ of spiders, I do not like them. There’s a difference.” He pauses, looking through the book again. “You don’t like Isaac, but that doesn’t mean you’re afraid of him, does it?”

“Of course not, he’s just a douche. Wish he were here though, he’d be a good test. So what are you looking for? The spell I did is on page 93.”

Peter glances up and looks at Stiles’ innocent face, determined not to fall for that again. “Des fleurs pour l'éternité.” Peter had four years of college and two years of living in France to perfect his accent. “Flowers for Eternity? A quick read doesn’t seem to indicate this would happen. What exactly happened so we can fix it?”

“So the woman at the store? Total witch, right? But I’m not too shabby and know what I’m doing and there’s the whole spark thing, right?” Stiles paces between the two mounds of flowers, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

Peter’s familiar with that, he does it when he’s anxious; it keeps him from flinging his hands around, which is a good thing right now. “Yes, you’re very skilled. She offered you the book or…”

“She had some kind of interesting books and stuff on her shelves. Like stuff you’d know was something if you knew about something, but you wouldn’t know it was something if you didn’t already know. You know?”

Peter thinks for a second and nods. “Unfortunately, I actually understood that. And she offered you this book?”

“No, not at first. We just started talking shop and I asked if she had anything interesting and…” He snorts and shakes his head. “And Peter, she started shit talking me! Going on about how she had something that I’d probably be interested in, because ‘you people’ always think you can do anything.” He grips his hands together, knuckles turning white, to stop the bit of flailing after the air quotes. “I mean come on, she was saying that a natural mage isn’t as good as a trained witch, which we both know is bullshit, right? I mean, sure a witch can be super powerful and all, but a born mage with proper training, can kick a witch’s ass.”

“What did she say, Stiles?” He’s read and re-read the spell on page 93 and it doesn’t seem it should have these results. It doesn’t mention the caster turning _everything_ they touch into flowers. “Why this spell? And where and when and how?”

Stiles looks around and squats, carefully keeping his hands away from everything. “Here, about two hours ago, I got home and figured out how to do the spell. There’s a few flowers in the kitchen. Maybe no sink? At least I didn’t touch the fridge.”

“And why?”

He sighs and Peter gets a noseful of anger mixed with self-doubt. “She said the book was way above me and said I could probably do the spell on page one, but something like page 93…”

“Would be over your head. We’ll discuss your self-esteem problems when this problem is fixed.” He reads the spell again before asking, “Flowers for eternity, hmm. Sounds pleasant. This seems to say that if you want to turn things into flowers you can. Not that everything you touch, whether you want to or not, will be turned into a flower.”

“That’s the way I read it, too!” he crows, jumping up. “I followed the instructions _exactly_. And oh, man, Peter, I have to pee.”

“Well you can touch yourself, right? Go to the bathroom, don’t touch anything and do what you need to.”

“Not helpful!” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I should be able to touch my dick, but there’s doors and toilet lids and the sink.” He looks like a sad little puppy, lower lip quivering. “Please help me, Peter?”

“Fine,” he huffs, pushing himself out of the chair and grabbing the book. He gives Stiles a wide berth and leads the way to the bathroom. “And I’m doing this because I’m nice and don’t want the carpets in here ruined. Okay, door is open, seat is up. Do you thing, shake it off, tuck it in and go back to standing away from everything, please. I have to make a couple of phone calls.”

“Peter! Stay outside or something, in case I need help or help,” he whines, doing a little have-to-pee dance.

“I’ll stay around, but believe me, Stiles, I am not going to be the test to see if you’re immune to your spell or if all humans are.” He leans against the wall outside the bathroom, paging through the book a little longer, while he waits. “Don’t try to wash your hands; pretend you’re a straight boy.”

“Dammit,” Stiles mutters and comes out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, wearing just his t-shirt, socks, and sneakers. “Habit, I guess. And yeah, we’ll need to replace the faucets. Sorry.”

Stiles steps back while Peter leans into the room, looking at the flowers in the sink and on the floor. “Well, thanks for not touching the toilet.” He flushes, saying, “Back into the living room. Lead the way, and don’t stop suddenly; as I said, we don’t know what your touch does to humans, and I don’t want to find out.”

“Man, who would have thought we’d want Theo around for anything?” Stiles walks slowly back into the living room, carefully keeping his arms wrapped around himself, hands out around his shoulders. “Maybe we shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.”

Of course that pulls his shirt up and Peter smiles as he watches his husband’s bare bottom. And then he remembers exactly why he’s bare and hoping he’ll be able to find some help.

“Who are you planning to call?” Stiles asks, standing back in his original place. “Do you think I can sit? Or would it turn the floor to flowers? I guess it turned the sofa to flowers, so maybe I’d turn the floor to flowers. That would be nice for the people living below us, my bare ass and a ton of flowers falling through the ceiling. Or would their ceiling turn to flowers? And their floor?”

Peter studies him quietly for a long moment, steepled fingers against his lips. “Your pants turned when you touched them. You haven’t touched your shoes, so you still have them.”

“Yeah! Yeah and I think I touched the couch when I was sitting down on it – kind of fell on it, actually. So maybe it’s my hands and not my ass?” he asks, eyes imploring his spouse. “How can we try it?”

Standing, Peter gestures to his chair. His favorite chair, but Stiles is his favorite everything, of course. “Use your knee and touch my chair.”

Stiles does as he’s told and the chair stays put, no new flowers. “Victory! So can I sit now? I think the adrenaline rush is over and I need to crash.”

“No crashing yet, but yes, sit on the floor, on your stack of flowers. Assuming you can sit without touching the floor with your hands?” Peter watches, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from helping him sit as Stiles kneels and finally manages to sit cross legged, accompanied by a huge sigh.

“Okay, now I have to just not move until you undo this.” The scent of panic fills Peter’s nose again as Stiles implores, “You can help undo it, right? Right, Peter?”

Thankfully, Stiles doesn’t have wolf senses and can’t hear Peter’s heart beat skip or smell his worry and doubt. “I’m hoping I have a solution. I have a contact – a friend even – in France. I contact her, she gets her emissary and boom, back to normal.”

It’s not quite as fast as Peter makes it sound, but he does contact his friend to see she can help. Monique is an ex of his, one who actually has good memories of him, so she’s willing to help. After laughing first, of course.

While Monique and her emissary are researching, Peter tries to keep Stiles calm with his favorite movies and something easy to eat. Which ends up meaning Peter has to feed him cheese and crackers since the first one he tried to eat by himself turned into daisies.

“Should you call again? Or is that only going to annoy them?”

“I’m sure they’ll call as soon as they have something,” Peter answers, putting a bit more brie on a cracker and holding it so Stiles can bite it without touching it or touching Peter. “I’ll give them another hour and then call. Do you want to watch Ghost Adventures? I think we missed the last new one.”

“No, I can’t watch Zack most times without wanting to throw things at the screen and I don’t think it’s good to turn all the pillows into tulips.” He sighs and flops backwards, careful to cross his arms over his chest and not touch the floor. “Not sure how I’m going to sleep. Oh god, or take a shower. Or wipe my own ass. Great, I’ll take a shit and have to wipe my ass with a handful of rose petals.”

“Darling, that’s just like you’re royalty. Pretty sure that’s the routine for kings or something.” Peter’s phone chirps and he checks it, grinning as he reads a text. “They have something.”

“Tell me it’s good news.”

Peter reads for a minute and grins, eyes flashing blue. “It’s good news. They have a counter spell.”

“It’s got a counter spell? That’s usually only done…”

“If a lot of people used the original spell and it went badly.” Peter reads a bit more, pushing himself off the floor and making his way into the kitchen. “I’ll get everything ready. Apparently, it’s a bit of a French spell-caster’s idea of a practical joke.” He comes back into the room with a bowl filled with Stiles’ flowers and a box of flaked sea salt. The latter is good for cooking and also good for spells.

Stiles stands, clapping his hands together once, ready to go. “Okay, well they’re douchebags and I’m gonna go punch Chris Argent tomorrow. I know he’s not responsible, but he’s the only French person I know.”

“Works for me. By the way, Monique told me this spell would wear off in a day or two. Three maximum, depending on the strength of the user. So you’re probably…”

“I’d be three,” Stiles sighs. “That’s my punishment for being so good at this stuff. Now what?”

Peter huffs, but doesn’t offer any comment; it wouldn’t be helpful right now, and Stiles is finally starting to smell like his usual self, happy and content. Sugar cookies and rosemary. “Now, you eat the bowl of flowers, some of the salt and say this spell.” He holds the phone out to Stiles and quickly pulls it back. “Um, I’ll set it here, you read it a couple of times – tell me when to scroll – and we’ll get going.”

Several hours later, they’re in bed, wrapped up around each other the way they are most nights. It took a bit of time to get there this night. After they reverse the spell, they spend a couple of hours putting flowers into trash bags and dragging them outside to the dumpsters. Stiles did pull a dozen of the ones he liked best, ones he hadn’t slept on and crushed, putting them in the vase sitting on the dresser by the bedroom closet. A mixed batch of lilies, roses, irises, and some that even Peter doesn’t know the name of.

“This is nice. Just touching you,” Stiles mumbles into Peter’s chest. He moves just enough to wipe a bit of drool off the wolf, trading it for a kiss. “Normally, if I feel bad or worried and I go to you.”

“I know, my darling, and I feel the same. I came home and smelled how upset you were and just wanted to pull you into my arms and make things better.” He rubs his face in Stiles’ hair. Freshly showered, but there’s still a scent of flowers that hasn’t quite washed out. “I’m glad I can do that now.”

Stiles looks up at him, grinning with enough teeth to make Peter’s wolf wake up. “So I’m thinking revenge is needed. Agree?”

“Perhaps. At some time later, when she’s not expecting it, I think.” He pulls Stiles up for a kiss, pulling off a stray rose petal that somehow stayed in his hair even after their showers. “Tomorrow, however, is shopping for new furniture and faucets and a kitchen sink.”

Stiles grins and asks, “After we cuddle in your favorite chair?”

“An eternity to cuddle, darling,” Peter tells him.


	2. Bit that's stuck in my head and revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umm, okay the first part is a bit of head canon. 
> 
> Second part is the requested revenge follow-up.

Peter wasn’t in love with the couch, so losing it isn’t any sort of problem. He doesn’t hate it, it’s been quite serviceable. It was in the apartment he had before he and Stiles moved in together, and as far as he knows, Stiles liked it, too.

“I just think a new apartment is a good idea. Let’s be honest, this one is too small. We need a place where we can be apart from each other now and then. You need a separate office, you don’t want to work in the living room, while I’m doing…” Stiles waves his hands around, in a gesture that is apparently supposed to mean something to Peter.

“Why can’t I work in the office and you go into the bedroom?” It’s not that Peter objects to the idea of a bigger place – a place they pick out together. He’s just contrary.

“Because you’re just being a prick. Now call whoever it is that rich people call when they need a new apartment and get on it,” Stiles says, grinning as he pulls Peter onto the couch. “I like this couch, I think it can stay. We’ll need some other things. I need a table next to my end of the couch. And you need your own chair.”

He nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, happy to add another layer of scent onto his boy, getting rid of the last of the horrible coconut shampoo. That’ll have to change. “I thought that was my chair,” he says, using his foot to point at what should be, in fact, his chair.

“Maybe. I like it, too.” He’s quiet for a minute, letting Peter kiss and chew another bruise on his shoulder. Hopefully it’s his shoulder and not another one he needs to cover with a sweater, or gods forbid, a scarf. “I like a lot of your stuff, Peter. Obviously, you have good taste. I’m not saying you need to get rid of everything, we should just get a new, bigger apartment – one that’s for both of us.”

“Thanks for letting me keep the furniture,” Peter says, looking at the nice love bite he’s left.

“Hey, I’m not an asshole. This isn’t a Ross and Emily thing, where you have to get rid of everything that might have ever been touched by Rachel.”

Peter sits up, studying his boyfriend (maybe partner, maybe mate), checking his scent. “Who the fuck are you talking about? Who is Emily? Who is Rachel?”

“Friends, remember? The British girl that Ross was engaged to for a hot minute?” Stiles tries to push Peter off him, smiling when the man lets his weight rest on him. For some reason, Stiles really likes being smushed and Peter can do that. “I’m just saying, we keep the furniture, but move it someplace else.”

“Ross was an asshole. And an idiot.” Peter lifts himself just enough to pull off his shirt and starts to tug on Stiles’. “Basically, if Ross was for it, we should probably be against it.”

“Ross hated getting head on the couch,” Stiles offers, wiggling enough to pull off his shirt.

“Idiot,” Peter states, and wiggles his way down the couch.

It’s a few months later and this time, Peter and Stiles are both at the witch’s bookstore. It’s a rainy evening, just before she’ll close, so it’s the perfect time to visit.

Peter finds a place to park out front, which is not too hard given the hour and the increasing rain.

Stiles takes Peter’s hand as they enter the shop. “Do you want to look around for a few minutes?”

Before Peter can even answer, the shop owner from behind the counter calls out, “Oh, look, it’s one of the Weasley children, and they’ve brought in their dog.” She sniffs, wrinkling her nose. “And he’s wet, that makes it even better.”

“No killing,” Stiles whispers to Peter as they approach the front of the store. “Why don’t you see if you can find anything we might like.”

“Take your time. Enjoy yourself.” Peter walks down an aisle and Stiles is happy that Peter is letting him handle this. After everything, he knows the wolf trusts him.

“Hi, missed me?”

“Surprised to see you,” the witch says, looking him up and down. It’s not flattering, it’s more like someone would look at a bug. “Are you returning the book you bought? Too difficult for you?”

“No, love the book, mastered a few things.” He touches a small notebook on her desk and smiles when it turns into a pile of violets. “Like your favorite, page 93.”

Her face goes blank and she stares at the flowers. “You’ve done that spell?”

“Absolutely! Took a bit, but I think I’m pretty good at it.” He picks up a book and puts it on the counter and it stays a book. “Peter wasn’t thrilled at first, I’ll confess there were a few too many flowers. His sense of smell… well, it wasn’t the easiest. Who knew a werewolf could have allergies?”

“Darling, I’d like this, please,” Peter says, handing a small stack of books to his mate. “Well, these actually. I’m sure that’s no problem. Is it?” He turns to the witch and flashes his blue wolfie eyes.

“I’m sure it’s no problem.” Stiles takes the stack of books and places them on the desk, then touches a pen. And another book on her desk and a coffee cup, smiling as they all turn into flowers. “See, there’s that smell again. I can’t control what type of flowers things turn into, that’s going to be something for the next step, cause right now, Peter’s right, it smells like a mortuary.”

Peter sneezes, claws coming out and spearing a book he’s holding. “Oh dear,” he says, putting it back on the shelf. “Darling, anything else? Or just pay the lady and we’ll be done.”

The witch narrows her eyes at both of them. “You’ve made your point, boy. Take your dog and get out.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs loudly. The theatrics are something he’s picked up from Peter over the years. “Now you had to say that, didn’t you? We were just going to tell you that I did the spell and _fixed_ the spell and then pay for our books and leave. But now, look what you made me do.” He shakes his head, disappointment on his face. And then he walks away brushing a finger over a row of books in a shelf, before touching the shelf itself, ignoring the piles of flowers behind him. “Oh I hate doing this, but… it’s the spell, isn’t it?”

Pulling another book off a pile, Peter tosses it to Stiles. “You wanted this, add it to the stack.”

“Oh good, I do like this store – I mean, the things that are for sale.” He adds the book to the stack. “Now. I can pay for these and leave. Sound like a plan?”

The witch sighs and pulls a bag out from underneath the counter. “You will _not_ get the frequent shopper discount. Cash or card?”

Peter slides in front of Stiles, handing her his American Express. “This should take care of what we’re buying.” He looks over his shoulder and turns back with a smile. “Sorry about any inconvenience.”

She looks from one to the other and then pushes the card back to Peter. “The boy in red and his wolf. You are everything I’ve heard of and more. I hope you enjoy your books.”

Stiles grins, wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist. “Honey, we’re famous!” He holds his hand out towards the witch. “Thanks for the books and we’ll see you around.”

She stares at his outstretched hand with a sneer, crossing her arms over her chest. “Until we meet again.”


End file.
